


What's left unsaid

by Majinie



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Insensitive Tony, M/M, Secret Relationship, avenger!loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 04:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4045129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majinie/pseuds/Majinie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint didn't say "Breathe for a second and explain this to me". He didn't say "I'm not letting you go when you're upset like this and don't think straight". He didn't say "Whatever it is, it can wait 'til tomorrow". He didn't even say "Let me come with you".<br/>He just let Loki go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's left unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I've been in a bad mood because of some bad news so there's not much optimism here.  
> Thanks to my beta-reader Myrsky for her help, as always. :)

Clint looked up from his papers to catch a glimpse of the Avengers' resident god of mischief idly flipping a page of his book. Just one or two months ago, Loki had been on the List Of People I'll Never End Up Having A Relationship With. Actually, more on the List Of People I Could 'Accidentally' Hit With An Arrow Without Feeling Bad About It.

 

It had changed, slowly, after Loki had been banished to earth under the watch of the Avengers and Clint had reluctantly started to acknowledge that hey, the guy actually wasn't that much of a dick when he didn't try to conquer the world and everything. Which didn't make the archer _like_ him, hell no, but he refrained from killing him in his sleep. And then, there had been that day when Thor and his beloved younger brother had an epic screaming match that ended with the team learning that it was, in fact, not Loki who had chosen to attack their planet, but that he had been a marionette himself, controlled by the very sceptre he had used himself later to boss people around. Well, it that didn't feel familiar in some sick, twisted way. 

 

Long story short: Over the course of months, they had very slowly and very carefully gotten closer to each other until they ended up in some weird kind of secretive relationship that had started from the feeling of relation (well, and maybe from a distinct lack of 'I will fucking murder you' from Clint after finding out about the story behind the invasion) that had become deeper after a while. Of course, the team didn't know (although Clint supposed that Natasha at least suspected something, because hey, it was  _Natasha_ ) and they kept up their usual bickering and snapping in front of them, but it had become less sharp and wasn't intended to hurt anymore. The other Avengers still kept their distance from Loki, coming to terms with him and his place in the team without developing something like friendship. He was not allowed to leave the tower without permission and surveillance and he had to aid the others during missions, but apart from that, nobody really cared about him. Clint hadn't taken long to notice that the god was pretty damn lonely.

 

Shaking his head to interrupt his thoughts, the archer finished the last sentences of his mission report and stood up, drawing Loki's attention towards him. “I'm going to bed”, he declared. “Unlike you, I'm just a normal human being and I really need my beauty sleep, especially because Fury set this meeting for tomorrow at six, so... you coming along?”

 

“Not yet”, the god replied, holding up his book to show the last few pages. “I'll just finish this, then I will join you.” An advantage of nobody caring about Loki was that no one wondered where he was or where he came from as long as he appeared where and when he was supposed to. It was sort of depressing if you really thought about it, but it gave the two of them the opportunity to share moments like this one and maybe feel a little bit like they were in a normal relationship.

 

“Okay, see you later then”, Clint said with a smile and crossed the room to press a short kiss to the prince's lips before he left the room. He took his time to brush his teeth and change into his pyjamas (or, um, boxers), but anyway, he was asleep before Loki came to bed.

 

~*~

He woke from a hand shaking his shoulder and a frantic whisper: “Clinton, you need to wake up, I – you have to –“ The panic in the god's voice was enough for Clint to switch into mission mode immediately and he sat up, spotting Loki kneeling on the mattress, still wearing his clothes and not looking like he had slept for even one second. His eyes were wide and the archer saw tears glittering in them. “I need your help”, Loki breathed. “Please, you need to help me, I can't...”

 

“Shht, what's up?”, Clint interrupted. “What the hell happened?”

 

“I'll explain everything to you, but I need to get out of here, _please_!”, the god urged, looking as though he was about to cry at any second. As Clint opened his mouth to object, Loki raised a hand, silencing him. “I promise I will be back in time for the meeting, nobody is even going to notice I was gone, but I need to get out of here or –“

 

“Alright, stop, I'll help you”, the agent cut in. “Pass me my laptop – Stark's gonna kill me for messing with JARVIS, but whatever.”

 

Clint didn't say  _Breathe for a second and explain this to me._ He didn't say  _I'm not letting you go when you're upset like this and don't think straight._ He didn't say  _Whatever it is, it can wait 'til tomorrow._ He didn't even say  _Let me come with you_ . He just looped JARVIS' security feed for his floor and told Loki it was safe to leave now. He vanished, just like that, in a trademark swirl of black and green.

 

Telling himself that Loki could handle his own business, Clint snapped the laptop shut and went back to sleep.

 

~*~

When he woke up the next morning and Loki wasn't there, he became nervous. When he entered the meeting room (five minutes late) and Loki was nowhere to be seen, he started to feel sick. When he noticed the tense atmosphere in the room and felt his teammates' eyes on him, he felt the blood draining from his face.  _Fuck, fuck, fuck, they found out and Loki's gone, I let him go and he escaped, how did I fall for this shit, he had this all planned out and I didn't understand a thing..._

 

“Clint, have a seat”, Natasha said, clearing her throat and making a motion towards an empty chair. The archer swallowed and quickly sat down, noticing that not only Loki, but also Thor and Fury were missing.

 

“So... what's up with the grumpy faces?”, he asked, although it came out more nervous than he intended it to.

 

For a few seconds, there was a tense silence until eventually Tony chose to speak up: “Loki is dead.” Clint felt his eyes widen and he leaned forward as if there would be a chance he had misunderstood, but the other continued before he had the chance to ask: “He disappeared from the tower after dinner, I don't think anyone saw him after that.” Right. He had hacked JARVIS and nobody knew Loki had been with him. “Thor got news from Asgard, their magical gatekeeper in the sky spotted him because his... um... that spell or whatever it was that had him hidden was broken. Something like that. Well, turned out that it was broken because Loki's dead and can't keep it up any longer.”

 

Tony spoke in the voice of someone telling a sob-story from a magazine, somehow empathic, but still distant, not really as a part of it. Because, Clint realized, that's what Loki was. He had lived with them, fought with them, but he had never been a part of the team. He was dead, but it was more important to wonder about how he could escape than to grieve for him.

 

Feeling Natasha's eyes on him, he leaned back again. They didn't know about him and Loki, there was no need to tell them now. And if there was something he could do, then it was pretending. It came naturally with working for some super secret organization.

 

“Dead. Um, wow”, he uttered, still not quite grasping the meaning of it. _Dead. Gone._ “How's Thor doing?” Steer the conversation to someone else. Distract.

 

Bruce took the bait and replied: “Not good.” He gestured outside and as if to underline his words, there was a crack of thunder outside. “He has... uh... seen the body. Didn't take it too well. Right now, he's talking to a group of Asgardians who brought the news.”

 

“Ah. 'kay. So, now we'll do... what?”, Clint asked, trying to keep up the same nonchalant disinterest the rest of the team displayed. The only answer he got was a shrug from Tony and equally neutral responses from the others. Not even Steve seemed to care. Yes, they hadn't been exactly friends with Loki, but it still made the archer sick to see that no one had a single fuck to give for the guy who had been on their team for several months now. Tony would probably have been more emotional if one of his cars had crashed, and he could have every vehicle in the world twice if he wanted to. But Loki? Loki wasn't even worth _acting_ like somebody was sorry, much less actually shedding a tear.

 

Only when he felt Natasha's eyes on him he noticed that his nails dug so hard into his palm that they had left four angry, red half-moon marks. He willed himself to relax, because officially, he had been the one who hated Loki the most. So hey, everything was okay – except for what was not, because Loki was dead and it was his fault and he couldn't change it. But he would smile and play along, because that was what he did. Act like nothing of this would concern him. He could do that.

 

A few minutes of silence later, Thor entered the room. He looked horrible, as if he had already cried, and hadn't even bothered to comb his hair or do anything to look like he hadn't just crawled out of bed and learned that his little brother was dead. Somehow, Clint had an odd feeling of sympathy for the thunderer, seeing that at least he wasn't the only one who cared about Loki.

 

“My friends”, Thor said, “I have had words with my mother, and you will be allowed to Loki's... funeral ceremony, if you wish to attend.”

 

There was a short, awkward silence until Steve finally said: “I'm not sure if...” He was interrupted by an elbow to the ribs from Tony and the engineer's hiss: “Jesus Christ, Rogers, that's our chance to see Asgard!” Then, turning to Thor, the millionaire continued: “We'd love to attend. When are we going?” Clint had never wanted to punch someone so bad like he did now.

 

He could see how the god clenched his fists, apparently thinking somewhere along the same lines, and the way his face darkened even more showed that he had heard every single word, but he didn't say anything. It felt like a betrayal of some sort, that he didn't say one thing to defend his brother – _Thor_ of all people, who never held back his own opinion – but maybe he was just too resigned, too tired to argue with those he knew wouldn't actually listen. So he just swallowed once and replied quietly: “Everything will be set for this evening, the preparations will be made in today's course.”

 

“Alright”, Tony answered, trying not to sound too cheerily, “then let's meet on the roof at seven. Are we done here?” Thor's only response was a nod and the engineer pocketed his phone and stood up, waving to all of them as he left the room. When he passed Thor, he patted him on the arm and mumbled something that was probably some half-assed attempt to look empathic. Judging by Thor's expression, he didn't even remotely fall for it. Steve and Bruce left next, both appearing like they wanted to say something but ultimately deciding against it.

 

“Clint?”, Natasha asked carefully. “Are you okay?”

 

The archer winced and cleared his throat before replying: “Yeah, of course. Just didn't sleep very much, that horrific mission report I had to write and then... now Fury's not even here to read it.” _Now Loki's not even here to laugh at my phrasing_. “Did you already have breakfast? 'Cause I hadn't.” _I waited for Loki to come and steal my donuts. Like every other morning._

 

“Me neither”, the assassin answered, observing him critically. She knew something was up, she definitely knew. There was no way he could keep something from her. “Wanna grab some donuts?”

 

_I still have some because Loki didn't come eat them like he should._ “Of course, why not?” They stood up and made their way towards the door where Thor was still standing and staring into nothing – no, not nothing, but the place Loki had used to sit at. Before leaving, Clint stopped and tried to find something to say that didn't sound like total pretence. “I'm, uh... really sorry about Loki. He wasn't as... uh... bad as I thought.”

 

Thor smiled sadly and responded: “I appreciate the sentiment, but there is no need to play a role that isn't yours to console me. I know you strongly disliked my brother.”

 

“I...” _...loved him and never even got a shovel talk from you, and now I never will_. “I just know how it is to lose someone. That's why I'm sorry.”

 

He got no answer to that, and turning back to Natasha he decided he couldn't say anything more. Having to hide had annoyed him when Loki was still alive, but now he hated it all the more, having to act like everything was okay, like he was  _relieved_ that his former enemy was dead now. He hated it, but he still did it, forced himself to choke down a donut and chat with Natasha (who definitely didn't fall for it, but didn't call him out on it either – he wasn't sure what was worse, her silence or the talk that would have resulted in her knowing everything). 

 

After their meal, he found some shallow excuse for retreating to his floor. It felt empty without Loki, who had been spending most of his free time here. He had never noticed, but now that he knew the god was never going to return and lay sprawled out on his couch, or surprise him with just being on his bed when he entered the room, or maybe annoying him with little pranks.

 

“Fuck!”, he exclaimed, slamming his fist against a wall. He could have stopped him, he could have done something or at least asked what was up, but no, he had _helped_ him to run into his own death. He never should have let him go. The guilt pressing down on his shoulders was almost like a physical weight, cold and heavy. He should be used to dealing with loss by now, it was inevitable in his job, but somehow knowing that it was solely his fault caused a whole new feeling of guilt. (It wasn't his fault, Loki was over a thousand years old, he should be able to watch out for himself, but that was a bad excuse if he ever heard one.)

 

Most of the day, he spent waiting. It was a mixture of the anticipating kind of waiting, the kind of 'this will be behind me soon' and anxious, dreadful hesitance, because after that ceremony he would know everything was over. Clint switched between waiting for the minutes to finally pass and clinging to each second so he wouldn't have to deal with what was waiting for him. He strolled through the large living area and kept finding traces of Loki, small things that he had left somewhere. 

 

There was a book laying on the living room couch, some philosophy stuff Clint would never ever read. He picked it up anyway and found a piece of paper tugged between two pages as a bookmark. When he opened the book, he found a paragraph about self-acceptance and mentally cringed. He had known a bit about Loki's problems with his family – some things were obvious, others he had learned by the god himself – and about how he had tried to kill an entire fucking race just for his father to accept him. Which he hadn't, just by the way.

 

The next thing he stumbled over was a bunch of papers, filled with notes on some strange magic stuff Loki had been working on (because really, it was more science than Clint would like to admit) and beneath that: drawings. Quick sketches that Loki had scribbled down while they were talking. One of Asgard's palace and the rainbow bridge (of course without colour, just pencil and a little bit of shading), several persons (one of which was his mother, Clint remembered, and another one showed an old man with a bitter expression and just one eye – Odin), and last, an apple. This one was drawn more exact than the others, with more care and time. He could remember Loki talking, in a quiet, dreamy voice.

 

_If I were to go back to Asgard, I would return to Idunn's garden and get you one of these. Immortality. – No, I am not actually allowed to do it, and yes, it would probably result in another banishment, but it would be worth it, having you by my side without having to worry about your fragile mortal body. People would accept it after some time, when they are tired of complaining about it. And you, you would become the god of archery. Maybe you'll even have some human worshippers._

 

It had been dreams, nothing more, but listening to Loki talk about them had made him feel content, feel _important_. The god was – _had been_ able to do that, and Clint had relished in the feeling and tried to return it as good as he could. He was not good with words like Loki... had been, but he knew his efforts were not in vain when he saw the god's small, gentle smile and the way his eyes lit up at some words. Three months ago, he would never have believed it, but he loved Loki. _Had_ loved Loki. And now he was dead because he hadn't even cared enough to ask about what was happening. Thinking about it closely, he was no better than the others.

 

~*~

The evening came and with every step he took towards the elevator that would bring him to the roof, Clint became more reluctant. He couldn't do this, he couldn't look at Loki, because then he's have to acknowledge that he was dead, really dead. But he had to. He couldn't flee from this, no matter how hard he tried.

 

Stepping into the penthouse, he was relieved to see that the others had at least had the decency to dress properly. Everybody wore a suit of some kind (except from Natasha, of course, who had chosen a plain, black dress). By now, the news seemed to have reached them, because Tony's enthusiasm to see Asgard appeared to have died down as he stared at the concrete floor or at his hands, not meeting Thor's eyes.

 

Clint was the last to arrive and nobody said anything as they stepped closer together before the golden beam of the Bifröst engulfed them. The feeling of being pulled through space was unexpected and caught them all by surprise (which was a careful phrasing for them feeling like they were turned inside out, pushed down a cliff and gutted, not necessarily in that order). When they arrived, Tony pressed a hand to his mouth, Bruce took deep, calming breaths and Steve seemed to be a bit unsteady on his feet. Even Natasha looked paler than usual and Clint felt like his breakfast was crawling back up his throat. Only Thor didn't move a muscle of his face and nodded at the gatekeeper, who was watching them silently, before he led his teammates out of the golden dome.

 

Under any other circumstances, it would have been funny to watch how the Avengers tried to mount their horses and, save Thor and Clint, failed marvellously. Tony stared at him openly and demanded: “Where did _you_ learn to ride?”

 

“I grew up in a circus, now go figure, you idiot”, the archer snapped. It came out far harsher than he had intended it to, but he was kind of not in the mood to give a fuck.

 

“Jesus, calm down”, the engineer soothed and finally, as the last of the group, hauled himself up onto his mare's back. They moved in a slow trot because of the inexperienced riders, taking in the golden palace hovering over them, black skies and the void in its background. “You know...”, Tony started again, not addressing anyone in particular this time, “I do feel kinda shitty right now. I mean, I never expected to outlive Loki, and I... I can't say I liked him, but looking back at it, I really think I acted like an asshole towards him.”

 

“You don't say”, Clint sneered. “Really, it's funny how you start thinking about being nice to him now that he's dead.”

 

“Hey, I was just –“

 

“Could you _please_ just shut the fuck up, Stark? Because if you keep talking, I really think I'm gonna punch you, or throw you right of the bridge if we're already at it.” His knuckles turned white because he gripped the reins so hard. Willing himself to relax in order to not hurt the horse, he breathed in and out slowly.

 

“And why are you suddenly so testy when it comes to Loki? It's not like you were best buddies or anything like that”, Tony shot back.

 

Clint, who had looked forward the whole time, turned halfway around on his horse so he could see Tony who was riding a few steps behind him when he snapped: “Because this is a thing about respect, Stark. No matter if you liked Loki or not, the guy's dead now and the first thing you think about”, his voice grew louder with every word, “when you hear it is a fucking sight-seeing tour of Asgard! All I ask for is that you have the courtesy to keep to yourself and don't act like you suddenly care about him!” With a jerky movement, he turned back around and resisted the urge to pull at the reins so his steed would move faster and away from the others. Thankfully, Stark didn't speak up again.

 

Again, Clint couldn't decide if the ride over the bridge felt like an eternity or was way too short. They were led through pompous streets, along a small river where people started to gather with blue lights that shone in the dark, like small stars among the dark crowd. The river led to a gateway where they dismounted, about fifteen minutes after arriving at the Bifröst. They were greeted by three Asgardians who quickly introduced themselves as the Warriors Three, Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg, and a woman called Sif. The last ones to step up to greet them were an old man with an eyepatch and a spear, who turned out to be Odin, and a blonde, beautiful woman whose first action was to embrace Thor tightly. His mother, Frigga, obviously.

 

Nobody spoke much as everyone settled for waiting. Loki had told Clint about Asgard's funeral ceremonies once and he took in the rows of guards standing on the riverside, each of them carrying a bow.

 

After a few minutes, he saw small waves, rippling the water's surface. Shortly after, a boat floated into view and Clint mentally prepared himself for what was coming. Part of him wanted to turn away and pretend he was just watching some random Asgardian ceremony, but he knew he couldn't. So he stood at the riverside as the boat drifted by, slowly enough for him to take in every detail.

 

Loki was pale, but he had either taken no injuries to the head or they had done a damn good job at concealing them. He looked peaceful, his eyes closed and his face perfect right up to his dark eyelashes. Velvety black hair curled on the dark green cushions he was laid down on, and he was wearing something Clint had never seen on him before. It was some kind of ceremonial gown in his trademark black and green colours, accentuated with golden threads and what had to be runes, and his hands were folded on his chest, holding a dagger that Clint had seen him use countless times.

 

Seeing the god like this felt terribly final. By no means anyone could deny his death now, when the boat slowly floated towards the world's edge, ready to fall down into nothing. When he saw the a guard raising his bow, Clint stepped forward to the All-Father and swallowed before asking: “Excuse me?”

 

The old god turned around, anger on his features for the archer interrupting the ceremony, but his wife laid a hand onto his arm, calming him, and asked: “What is it?”

 

“I...” His voice sounded terribly loud, although he knew that no one except from those in close proximity should be able to hear him. “May I have...” He gestured towards the guard who had a burning arrow ready on his bowstring. “I would like to do it. If it doesn't interfere with the ceremony, I mean.”

 

She seemed hesitant, glancing at the boat that was pretty far out by now. Clint admired her composure. “Are you certain your aim is sufficient for this?”, she asked after a few seconds.

 

The archer gave her a pained smile as he replied: “I'm earth's – I mean, Midgard's best marksman. I don't think that'll be a problem.”

 

A moment of consideration later she nodded and he was handed a bow, together with the ignited arrow. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the string back and looked out at the boat. This wasn't his weapon and he hadn't ever shot with arrows like this one, but he knew it would hit the moment he breathed out and let it loose. He didn't have to look to know that the arrow embedded itself in Loki's chest, exactly where his heart was. He didn't have to look to know the boat caught fire a second later. He still didn't turn away when it crossed the waterfall and a blue cloud of glistening dust rose up.

 

Only when it had dissipated into the blackness of the void, the burning boat fell down and he felt Natasha's hand on his shoulder, Clint felt his vision blur out with tears and dropped the bow to press his hands onto his eyes as he started sobbing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh... thoughts?


End file.
